Long Forgotten Meetings
by Athar Riordan
Summary: One-Shot. Time and Anomaly travel works in mysterious ways, as an Anomaly leading to Victorian London - and a young girl's penchant for adventure - leads to a meeting of two individuals whose fates will one day meet and collide once again; in more ways than one... Apart of the 'Family of Time' series. Rated 'T' to be safe.


**Title**: Long Forgotten Meetings

**Author**: Athar Riordan (RiordanGem)

**Series**: Family of Time

**Summary**: One-Shot. Time and Anomaly travel works in mysterious ways, as an Anomaly leading to Victorian London - and a young girl's penchant for adventure - leads to a meeting of two individuals whose fates will one day meet and collide once again; in more ways than one...

* * *

**Author's Note**:

This is in the same era, as the previous one-shot 'Victorian Beginnings' so 1840-1850's. Not much is known about what happened to Ethan/Patrick during his travelling through the anomalies other than what was mentioned in the show. So I'm using a bit of creative license for some of his back story in terms of where he ended up via his gateway travels. I hope this turns out okay :/

Oh, and Emily's family name before marrying Henry Merchant is 'Turner' - Just to avoid Confusion :)

* * *

**Setting**: London, 1850's

* * *

A young girl stood amongst the bustling crowd; her brown eyes wide with fear after realizing she had lost her nanny in her excitement to see a puppet show. The streets of Victorian London were exceptionally busy at this time of year, as the winter festival was near it's peak and so many were in the business of getting ready for the Christmas celebrations of the household. Looking around the street, her hands clasped tightly in the Muff (hand warmer) there were buried in before her, twelve year old Emily Turner looked around as much as she could for any sign of her nanny, before taking the decision to slip out of the main crowd, and to keep to the side of the street so she would not be trampled upon by the madding crowd.

Stepping nimbly through the crowds, slipping around the long legs of gentlemen whose women companions arms hooped through theirs, Emily managed to get out of the wave of people that all seemed to be going in various directions with faces that were ever changing. Stepping onto the smooth paving stone, The twelve year old began to walk in the original direction she had come from; her brown eyes not missing anything as she tried to find the face of her nanny amongst the stall owners and shoppers.

Passing one of the smaller courtyards, Emily spared a glance at the travelling caravans that had pitched up there; with shire horses free of their reigns and grazing on fresh hay, which was held by netting on the side of the caravan. Light music played from some of the coloured traps, and caravans - most belonging to gypsies, her father had once informed her when they had passed them on country roads- and Emily felt a momentary urge to stay and listen for a little while longer to the hypnotising music that set the young girl's imagination alight. She had always been adventurous, even as a small girl; climbing trees, that was seen as an unbecoming fashion of a young lady, or dressing in men's trousers instead of the skirts her mother, Abigail, wore with a grace Emily knew she would never truly achieve - even though her mother assured her otherwise.

Continuing to walk, with small brown curls bobbing from beneath the hat she wore to keep her head warm, Emily came to the square that was the focus of this winter marketplace- and stood on tip-toe in the hope of seeing better around the area. But the square was full of carriages, stalls and groups of people that it made it hard for the twelve year old to see anything beyond her current small vantage point on the square's edge. Letting out a small sigh, it was only then Emily realised how unwise it was to follow such a spontaneous plan. Her father had always said she was stubborn and prone to doing things before clearly thinking them through - and at this point, it seemed his council was correct.

Biting her lip as a sliver of fear coursed through her, Emily swallowed it as she tried to plan a new course of action. Perhaps if she could find a cabby, she would be able to take the horse-drawn carriage back to the Turner's London residence, or perhaps to Lady Maria's residence- as she and her mother were companions- where she would be able to be escorted home safely. While Emily ran through the different scenarios, a shadow crossed her line of sight so quickly she wouldn't have paid it the slightest attention had it not been for the strange attire of the shadow who was a young man perhaps a few seasons older than herself.

The clothes of the figure, who appeared to be of adolescent age, were well fitting - despite the holes and rips in the wears - and made of different material than Emily was used to seeing on the men (and women) she knew and had come into contact with. The young man was dirty, probably from sleeping on the harsh streets, and his dark hair (black maybe? Emily wondered) was matted in curls; some of which clung to his neck that was brown from exposure to harsh sunlight. To Emily, he looked like one of the peoples the books she read spoke of, from across the sea - perhaps travelling with the East India Company or from the America's on the tea clippers that raced across the waves on the trade routes of Empire. Whoever this stranger was, he intrigued her - and so, without due cause, she followed him.

* * *

Patrick Quinn pulled his worn and tattered coat close about him. The wintery weather of this era was much colder than what the teenager was used to, and so the Seventeen year old was trying to find some shelter in this human populated world. Since being trapped on the other side of an Anomaly leading to a possible future, and learning to survive there until another 'Gateway' opened that would hopefully be the one to take him back home, Patrick had seen many things - but it was rare for the gateways of light to lead to a Human era such as this one that looked to be close to his own. Apart of the teenager wondered if his brother was searching for him - but that part of his mind was slowly decreasing the longer he travelled through the gates of dancing lights that led him on.

Looking at the faces and the bustling crowds of the place he had found himself in, Patrick couldn't help the sense of familiarity that washed over him the more he took in the market stalls, the attire, and the landmarks. The glimpse of the river a short time ago, however, had fully confirmed his suspicions that the traveller was in fact in London; although when, he wasn't sure. What he did surmise however, was that whenever he was - it was winter, and most probably around Christmas given some of the trinkets, decorations and food on offer to the crowds courteously of the variety of stall owners who were shouting over each other, to promote their wares.

Shivering slightly, Patrick managed to weave through the wave of people and reach the far less crowded pavement made of smoother stone than the cobbled roads. Pulling the worn collar of his jacket up a little further, Patrick passed a small courtyard that was filled with music, and continued on until he reached the centre of the market place which appeared to be some sort of square. Entertainment involving puppeteers, jugglers and string musicians had been set up in the centre close to a bonfire that crackled merrily even in the cold temperatures; leaving a stream of smoke to rise up into the snow-threatening clouds.

The sight before him, made Patrick begin to feel claustrophobic after being away from human contact for so long during his gateway adventure. These people, were nothing more than forgotten memories of an era that had had it's time and was over. But that didn't mean that Patrick didn't feel something when seeing all the faces smiling and chattering away as if there were nothing wrong in the world.

Apart of him wanted nothing more than to one of those people, only he would be with his brother, Danny, and his parents opening presents with the television on in the background (perhaps that new show on BBC... '_One Foot in the Grave'_ with that grumpy old bald man) during Christmas dinner.

Swallowing at the memory, Patrick gave a final, wary, glance at the square before turning to a new direction the market led off in - this particular section slightly less busy and so less oppressive to the teenager.

In the corner of his eye, the young man spotted a young girl looking around near to where he had been standing; she was younger than him- that much he knew- but she seemed to be well dressed, suggesting that she was raised in a wealthy household. For a moment, Patrick thought about taking the small purse the young girl was bound to have somewhere on her person in order to get some food, but thought otherwise. Stealing had become second nature to him, and so stealing some of the food from one of the stalls shouldn't be a problem for him- after all, living with those creatures he had learnt how to stalk his prey and to go unnoticed. Beginning to walk, Patrick moved across the girl's line of vision to pass her; unawares that he had caught her attention just as she had caught his.

* * *

The hairs on Emily's neck stood on end as she began to follow the strange young man, from a short distance behind him. To her curious eye, the twelve year old noted that the young man had no idea where he was going as he walked down the quieter part of the market, but she wasn't silly enough to talk to him on her own. After all, the stranger could be dangerous - but perhaps that's what drew her to him; the adventure and the thrill of observing. After all, observing people was a popular past time of some of the writer's of the time such as Mr. Dickens, it was encouraged in some sense - so who was Emily to ignore the words of wiser men who had travelled and who were well learned in the ways of the wider world?

With all thoughts of the possible heart attack she was probably causing her nanny, young Emily continued to follow the stranger, as he slowed near to one of the food stalls. Toffee Apples and roasted chestnuts were on display and beneath a metal lid to keep them warm against the cold; there was a small selection of meats spread too, with pork pies on display. Emily titled her head slightly as the teenager's shoulders appeared to straighten slightly, from their previously slumped position when she had first observed him. Biting her lower lip and slowing down also, Emily watched as the younger man's head turned from side-to-side as if he were checking there was no one around; the stall owner was currently serving a middle aged woman and her child and so was not able to keep watch on the unattended side to his stall.

If the twelve year old hadn't been watching as closely as she had been, Emily would not have noticed the way the younger man's hand shot out of his pocket three times in very quick succession to steal not only two pork pies, but also a toffee apple that was teetering on the edge of the grate. Brown eyes widened as she realised what the older teenager had done, but she remained silent to prevent him from being aware of the witness who had seen him, Emily moved just as the dark haired teenager did until he slipped into an alley a little further down.

This road appeared to lead to one of the docks and so some of the smaller roads and alleys were dead ends and slums filled with overcrowded homes and dens of iniquity, as one of her father's friends would say. Thankfully the alley didn't lead to anywhere other than behind some of the shops and temporary stabling, as Emily discovered upon peeking around the corner, and so the place was practically empty. She was debating whether or not to continue on into the quiet alley, when a slightly hoarse voice from apparent misuse spoke in a low voice.

"I know you're there," came the rough Irish lilt. "So you may as well show yourself."

Emily gulped, as she slowly stepped out from the corner and took a few steps into the alley; her brown eyes continuing to scan the area. She found the younger man sitting on the ground with his back against the wall, with his legs bent and feet planted on the ground in front of him. His eyes were hidden beneath closed lids, and one arm rested almost lazily across the top of his knees as he waited calmly for Emily to make herself known.

* * *

Patrick had known about his shadow since he had passed a few women on the street, when he had turned his head, and caught sight of the girl a short distance behind him. While he had no idea where he was actually going, the young one seemed to have a purposeful path in mind - and it seemed to be following his own. His suspicions were confirmed as soon as he stopped in order to take some food from the stall whose blithering owner was to busy talking to an old dear and brat, when the girl stopped just as he did.

He should have said something then, but a part of Patrick was enjoying this blind-leading-the-blind; the girl was curious about him - which was understandable, due to the vivid imagination one had when one was young and still mostly naive in regards to the wider world. This girl had not known a hard life, and so did not fully understand it. But he didn't understand why she had chosen to follow him, instead of some of the other beggars and thieves he had spotted along the way.

Finding a quiet alley - a cliché setting, he knew- Patrick had finally sat down after in relative peace after his long journey throughout the day from one era and into another. Sighing, as his back hit the wall, and his bum hit the floor, Patrick heard the small footsteps of the girls shoes but ignored them as he allowed himself a moment to relax. This girl was of no threat to him, and so he had the luxury of having the advantage over his opponent - who did not know what awaited her.

After moments of silence, Patrick decided to speak up - otherwise the girl would just watch him from her rather obvious vantage point.

"I know you're there," he called. "So you may as well show yourself."

As the girl's small footsteps grew closer, Patrick debated whether or not to teach the curious creature a lesson in following strangers; but decided against it. He was tired, and so such unnecessary waste of energy was not needed when his body demanded a short reprieve after the chaos that had become his struggling existence. The alley grew silent as the girl's footsteps halted a foot away, so Patrick opened his slightly glazed orbs and turned his head slightly to see the girl properly for the first time.

Emily swallowed, as the stranger's eyes turned to her, but despite the urge to run, she held her ground and met his gaze with her own brown eyes that revealed to Patrick a mixture of genuine curiosity, apprehension and slight fear.

"What's your name?" Patrick asked, at last, as he proceeded to pull out one of the pies from his pocket and broke it in half; spilling crumbs onto his jacket and lap. The teenager ignored them; however, as he brought the pastry up to take a bite from the luxury he had missed.

"It's alright," he added, after swallowing the first morsel. "I'm not going to bite." he joked, much to his surprise.

"E-Emily," The twelve year old answered after a moment of hesitance, as she removed one of her hands from the Muff Warmer (that now only held her left arm in) and began to finger the furry material. "What is yours?"

Patrick eyed the girl for a moment, and her actions, before mentally shrugging and answering. "I'm Patrick," he said, by way of introduction. He pointed a finger at the youngster. "Should you be following strangers like you did?" He asked, with a casual voice. "You never know what they could be capable of."

"I was curious," the young girl answered in a slow voice, one Emily often used after feeling berated by an elder. "Your attire, Sir, it's strange. Is it some new wear that has yet to come to London?"

Patrick chuckled. "You know what curiosity did," he mused, with a weak smile before adding. "No, it's not some new wear."

"What did curiosity do?" Emily asked, her curiosity thoroughly peaked by the stranger's colloquialisms. "And if they are not new wears, then where do such strange garments come from?"

Patrick raised an eyebrow. The girl was brave, as she brazenly questioned a man she had only known for a few short minutes. Despite himself, he enjoyed her character. Perhaps today would be a good day.

"It killed the cat," the teenager answered with amusement after finishing off the first pork pie. "My 'Garments', as you call them, are my own business - none of your concern as to where they came from."

While Emily thought his last statement was slightly rude, the idea of Curiosity killing a cat both amused and confused her. "The phrase you speak of," she asked, "why would a cat be killed by curiosity?"

Patrick groaned. Apparently the phrase had yet to be coined. "It's just a saying - when you're tryin' to stop someone from asking questions you don't want to answer."

"I like this phrase, it has a ring to it," Emily admitted with a shy smile. The stranger intrigued her more and more.

"I'm happy for you," Patrick answered, with an undercurrent of light sarcasm, before his voice became serious. "Why were you following me?"

Emily's brown eyes lowered at the question, as she scuffed her shoe on the cobble stone. "I've lost my nanny," she admitted softly. "I was curious as to a puppeteer show and I lost her in the crowd." she explained. "I'm ashamed to say, I allowed my curiosity to get the better of me."

"Which is why you decided to follow someone you have never met, okay," Patrick concluded with mild humor lacing his voice. "Didn't anyone ever tell you not to speak to strangers? Or do the rules not apply to well off children such as yourself?"

"I'm not a child - I'm nearing my thirteenth year, well into the stages of womanhood." Emily replied with slight indignation, at the audacity of the boy who was only a few years older than herself. And my family's income is modest, so I would ask you sir to not assume before getting to know a person."

Feisty, the teenager smirked internally as he ate the second pork pie. The girl had spunk, to stand up to a complete stranger she knew nothing about. He was beginning to like her.

"Well, I'm sorry for affending you," Patrick compromised. "But you shouldn't have followed me. I could be a killer for all you know." I am a killer.

"But a killer would never admit to his victim that he was indeed a killer," Emily explained knowledgeably. "Therefore, you are not a killer; A skilled thief perhaps, but not a killer."

Patrick raised an eyebrow. "I'll bear that in mind next time," he nodded, with a humouring smile, before he glanced toward the market beyond the alley. "Shouldn't you be on your way, now that you have unveiled the mystery of the stranger?"

Emily bit her lip then. As much as she was sure she could find her way back, it was growing darker - either due to the lateness of the day, or because of an impending change in weather, she was wasnt sure. For all her twelve year old bravado - she did not wish to walk these more quieter streets alone, not with all the suspicious characters this season.

"I- I'm afraid," the young girl admitted. "To be alone in a place such as this," she said, as her brown eyes fell to avoid the gaze of the older teenager, who frowned at the confession. What was he supposed to do about her fear?

"W-would you accompany me please? Just until I am able to find my nanny or until I am able to get to the house of one of my mother's female companions?"

That was not a question Patrick Quinn had been expecting in the slightest. By all rights, he should say 'No' - that this was the girl's own doing and so it would teach her a lesson to not lose sight of her nanny or whoever she had been with. But apparently what was left of his conscious would not allow it, as he found a different set of words escaping his lips.

"Alright," he said with a sigh and shrug. "I'll help you - but the next time; you're on your own. Understand?" he asked, hoping to make his point.

Emily swallowed. "Yes sir, and thank you,"

* * *

Mary Margaret found herself nearly in tears when - after more than two hours of frantic searching - the Turner Family Nanny set eyes on her young charge walking with an older boy and speaking to him in low tones. Proceeding to walk up to the pair who had stopped still in conversation over something, Mary quickly made her way over to the young Mistress, and put her hands on the young girl's shoulders as the older boy looked ready to step between the pair at the sudden action.

"Lady Emily, what an earth was you thinking?" Mary said, in a slightly high pitched voice, her tone a mixture of frantic and relief.

"I'm sorry, Mary Margaret," the twelve year old said in a voice laced with shame. "I became lost amongst the crowd." Emily answered, thinking of the cover story the pair had come up with for the adults – after all, Patrick was not someone considered to be suitable company. "This young man found me, and offered to accompany me until I could reunite with you or mama or papa."

"Thank you, sir. You're kindness is much appreciated." Mary Margaret spoke hurriedly, as minor hyperventilation set in.

"It's no trouble, Miss Margaret." Patrick replied in a kind tone, to suit the scene. "I believe Miss Emily, has learnt her lesson. No harm done."

"Here," Mary Margaret said, as she took out her purse and pulled out some coins. "Some money for your trouble, I insist," she added, at seeing Patrick about to object.

"Thank you, Miss," Patrick said, with a small nod of his head. It was darker now, and so the teenager's close were less noticeable in the vanishing light.

"Thank you again, Patrick," Emily said with a small smile. "And I do apologise for the inconvenience I have caused you,"

"Just remember what I said, Miss Emily," Patrick reminded her, with a pointed look. "About Curiosity,"

"I will," she nodded, with a smile. The phrase still fresh in her mind.

"Come now, Miss Emily - we have to get home, your Father and Mother will be worried sick about you we've been out so late."

"Yes, Mary Margaret, we should," Emily agreed, before looking at Patrick and nodding her head, just as he had done. "Goodbye, Patrick."

"Goodbye, Miss Emily,"


End file.
